


jagged, like thorns

by Omeganixtra



Series: a map 'cross the stars [13]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Thorn - Freeform, Unresolved Feelings, that fucking gun is a warning in and of itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganixtra/pseuds/Omeganixtra
Summary: “Was it worth it?”“Is anything? It’s questions like those that’s kept me up far more often than I’d like to admit.”





	jagged, like thorns

**Author's Note:**

> related to "Failure"

Looking at him from across the ruins of the Cosmodrome with the light of sunset between them and the screeches of Fallen far behind them, it’s easy to imagine another reason as to why she’s—why _they’re_ here. Around the two of them the wind howls, patches of snow flicker in and out of existence due to the angry gale that whips against trees and dead shrubberies and rusting, concrete building.

It only makes what comes next so much harder—to desecrate the place where they all met so many years ago with the blood of a friend, of a loved one.

“Was it worth it?”

Zalli smiles, a twisted, somber thing that looks more like his lips are twisted because of something he’s eaten than a far simpler expression. His eyes, usually so bright and happy, now look dull with the whites of his eyes replaced by Darkness—if she didn’t know better, she’d say it’s the same Darkness that possessed Uldren.

“Is anything? It’s questions like those that’s kept me up far more often than I’d like to admit.”

The lump in Meera’s throat grows firmer, bigger and she has to force herself to tighten the grip around the handle of her gun. A glint of sunlight flickers and reflects off the metal that Zalli is draped in from top to toe. She can see the splatters of blood and grime caked into every crevasse and scratch that the armor bears.

“It’s not too late, Zalli. You can still—”

“Still _what_? Go back?”

“Yes!”

“No. No, there is nothing to go back to,” he shakes his head, raising the wretched gun that has brought so much ruin across the system. “Y’know, there’s something poetic about it being a Titan to once more be the one holding the Thorn.”

“Is that what this is all about? Events being poetic?”

“No, not as such.”

“Then _what_?”

This time he _laughs_, but it is a cruel, thin sound—something that sucks out all the light and hope that Meera might have brought with her.

“You did this.”

“What?”

“Want me to speak up?” he snaps and finally stares at her, eyes hungry and glowing a dull yellow. “_You_ did this, Meera! You and your fucking pathetic whining!”

“Cayde _died_, Zalli! My lover, one of the most important people in my life, died and you want me to just forget about him?”

“No, but I expected you to remember those that you still have left! You went on a fucking murder spree across the Reef, refused to obey orders issued by the Vanguard and left Tora and I to pick up the fucking pieces!”

“I had to think of the Hunters, every single senior member of—”

“I don’t care about you and your fucking Hunters! I wanted my friend back and instead she left me behind to deal with _everything_!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about anymore, Zalli!” she cries. The tears are beginning to trickle down her cheeks by now. They burn as ice-cold wind beats against her skin.

“You think you were the only one who cared about him? You think you’re something _special_ just because you fucked the guy on a regular basis? Well, I’ve got news for you, honey: no, you’re fucking _not_.”

“Of course I’m not the only one, I’m not blind!” she shrieks at him. “But you’re not making any sense, Zalli! Please, for the love of—urgh, please just put down that cursed gun and we can talk about this!”

“I thought that if I worked hard enough, you’d see it,” Zalli snarls and paces from one side to the other, intent on paving a line in the frozen dirt. “You’d see how much I was hurting. But you _didn’t_. You never saw a single fucking thing, so caught up in revenge and blood and _pleasing_ the Awoken. Is that all that you do now? Bend over backwards for a Wrath and a Queen who’re both more likely to fuck you over than actually thank you for what you do? Maybe that’s all you need, a new ass to kiss. Do you let them do things to you, Meera? Do you let them dominate you and ruin you and fuck you over and over and over again?”

“Those are your Queen and Regent that you’re talking about, Zalli! Show some fucking respect!”

“Respect for a set of monarchs who have never given a damn about those of their subjects who left the Reef and became Guardians? Why, so both of those bitches can start giving me orders as well?”

“You are going too far!”

He laughs again. She wants to scream on the top of her lungs and claw out his vocal cords, if only so that he’ll stop saying those terrible things.

The image of Guardians lying on the ground in both the Wilds and in the Crucible, mauled and bloodied, their Light gone and their Ghosts wailing, sears in her mind. The roar from Shaxx as feeds are cut, as the Vanguard sends guards to detain her friend, her fireteam’s stalwart protector through so long. She wants to believe that it is only the Darkness that is making him say these things, that it is only the corruption from Thorn that has him in its twisted, sickly sweet grip and whispers dread secrets into his ear that reeks of the Hive, of dark magic and ruin.

But some part of her _knows_.

She knows that one has to be willing for corruption to spread this far, for Darkness to float towards the sky through the cracks in his armor and shine from his blacked eyes.

“It started with a hunger within Rezyl Azzir. It started with a hunger within me. I clung to the molten husk that I found in the ashes and _I_ brought it back to the glory that it once held! I stole the Light from others, kept myself sane by creating a purpose, and the reward that I get is ostracization?

“If you do this… he’ll find you and destroy you, Zalli. The Renegade will—”

“Let him come. It’s only a matter of time, anyway.”

“Please, you’re _better_ than this, you’re better than earning a death brought by Shin Malphur and his Golden Gun, _you’re better than that_, _Zalli_!”

“Some would beg to differ. Those whose Light I have snuffed out certainly would.”

“Those people deserve justice for what you did, make no mistake. But all I want is to get my friend back.”

“You’re too late. Your friend is already long gone.”

“No. I won’t let you. I’ll drag you back by your hair if I have to.”

A wry smirk twists his lips. An eyebrow is cocked askew. “You can certainly try. But are you willing to risk your Light, everything that makes you _special_, against the Thorn?”

“I’m willing to risk everything for the friend I want to save.”

His hand moves, quick as lightning, and a bullet screeches past her ear. The ringing intensifies as she stands deadly still, eyes widening from the shock, the smallest tendrils of fear latching on. The warm trickle of her blood running down her cheeks burns against her frozen cheeks. Faintly, as if her ears have been stuffed with thick cotton, she can hear the screams from her Ghost. It won’t heal, the tiny scratch that his gun has given her.

Her fingers graze against the small wound and come away dirtied by blood and tears. Small flickers of Darkness sizzles from the blood on her glove.

“If Cayde were here he’d be disappointed,” she manages to get out past stiff, cold-numbed lips.

“If Cayde were here he’d have shot me already,” he retorts without skipping a beat. “But what will you do, I wonder?”

Yes.

What will she do? What _can_ she do? If shot she’ll lose her life, no doubt. She’ll leave behind everything but have a chance at seeing the man she loves once more. She’ll leave behind Tora and her Ghost, and leave behind a Zalli so wrecked with Darkness and hurt that it hurts for her to breathe while looking at him.

And she does.

She looks at him, takes in every part of him from his unwashed, stringy hair that falls around his face to the hollow eyes burning sickly yellow and never-ending black.

Her hand tightens around the grip of her gun, and she feels a warmth spread from the center of her chest.

What she has is no Last Word and she is as far from a Gunslinger as they come, but nonetheless she raises her weapon, her Ace of Spades, and _aims_.

“Zalli, I’m bringing you home.”


End file.
